


An old Ravager and his Instincts

by Gaxxy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Danger, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Peter Quill, M/M, Male Slash, Nightmares, No Smut, One Shot Collection, Ravagers family, Slice of Life, Tullk needs more love, Violence, Work In Progress, implied slaughter, in no real order, mentions of kragdu, tullk tells stories, uncle tullk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaxxy/pseuds/Gaxxy
Summary: Tullk has always been there. He's seen Yondu's rise and fall, been there through everything. A series of one shots dedicated to Tullk of the Ravagers.





	1. Welcome to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> First one is short, the rest will likely be longer. No idea how long this will be but I'm sure I'm going to enjoy the ride. Hope you all enjoy and I'll see you for the next one, lovelies!

He’d known. From the moment Kraglin opened his mouth on Berhert, Tullk had known. Instinct’s a man’s best friend when he lives on the edge and every mission could be his last. As one of the longest serving Ravagers, Tullk’s instincts had been honed and whetted sharper than any blade.

He had felt his fingers and toes twitch, crackling with static. Aching to move and grab his blaster, anything to defend himself or to shut Kraglin up. But from the slipping of the first word past the first mate’s lips it had already been too late.

 _Run._ They had urged, gripping violently at his chest when he refused to listen. Tullk had always listened before. _Then, kill!_ _Survive. At all costs, survive!_  
  
There was only one problem with instincts. They weren’t capable of rationale. Running or fighting? None of it would have made a difference. Tullk had chosen to fight, not because it would help him survive, but to prove his loyalty. To shame the men siding against Yondu by proving himself the better Ravager. The better man. Least he could do after all those years right?

Anger boiled through his veins, the fire burning hotter after every crack against his body. The cries and screams of the loyal rang through his ears like the shrieking spirits that warned of someone’s impending death and proceeded to mock them into the afterlife.

 _Can ya even see us, Cap’n?_ Tullk’s nose crunched under someone’s fist, his sight was too blurred from the most recent crack of metal against his head to see who. _We’ll be waitin’ fer ya in the stars, and after all this… ya better keep us waitin’, lad._

Screaming and begging weren’t going to change a thing. These were no men that were pummelling him bloody. Just a pack of rabid mutts wound up into a feeding frenzy the second they caught a whiff of blood in the air. Instead, Tullk stood defiant when he was shoved into the airlock and pounded on the see-through panel with his shattered fist.

He snarled at the jeering animals on the other side, even knowing they couldn’t hear a word of it. “He’s gonna lead ya tae yer deaths! Just you wait, yer all dead an’ we ain’t gonna be there tae see ya in those stars!”

The next thing he knew Tullk was floating, pulled out into the vast emptiness to join his brothers. For once his instincts fell silent, resigned in their failure. Crystals of ice clung to his body, seeping through his flesh and into his blood for what felt like eternity, until finally darkness engulfed his vision.

There was something hauntingly peaceful in the silence. Even though the void was agony, wringing every last dredge of life from him, it was also embracing him. Surrounding Tullk in a soft blanket as he was welcomed into the stars.


	2. Brats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tullk is the Eclector's designated babysitter.

The kids had almost been enough to make Tullk desert. Not mutiny, just desert. His captain was adamant that they weren’t trafficking, that their daddy was just stupid enough to pay a gang of notorious rogues far too much money to reunite him with his sprogs. Tullk didn’t believe the excuse for a second, but he could tell that underneath all the bluster, Yondu’s intentions were honest enough.

Tullk had taken it upon himself to look out for the first one. A scrappy Skrull who had somehow managed to be the sole survivor of a Kree raid. Not that the kid was really in any danger, but there was only so far you could push someone like Horuz or Taserface before they decided to put you in your place. And Halfnut? Something was just wrong with that one, Tullk didn’t want to take the chance.

Some soft sparring alongside stories of the fights and battles Tullk had been involved in were all it took to endear the kid to him. He had to admit … it was kinda nice having someone look up at him with awe and admiration again.

After that it had just kind of stuck. The Eclector picked up a new whelp, Yondu made sure to dump them on Tullk as soon as possible. If for whatever reason he was planet-side or otherwise engaged he was constantly pestered about every little thing that could possibly crop up.

After the fiftieth call about the eighth brat, Tullk had switched his comm to its ‘do not disturb’ setting. He turned to Horuz and slumped against the wall behind them. “Am I seriously the only asshole in this crew who had kids before all this?” The sheer number of Ravagers aboard the ship made that hard to believe.

Horuz just shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Quit your bitchin, Tullk. You brought this on yourself, taking the cargo under your wing. Ain’t gonna bring your brats back, yet there you are treating them like they’re kin.”

Tullk just chuckled and shoved Horuz’s shoulder. “Ya still pissy that I stopped ya stringing up the Badoon girl by her ankles ‘cause she kept swiping at ya beard?” The derisive snort was all the answer he needed. “Lighten up, they make us a pretty sum. Ain’t no harm in me lookin’ out for ‘em so they make it tae daddy in one piece.”

“Just don’t get too attached. Don’t want anyone thinking you’ve gone soft.”

Peter Quill had been the twelfth and final pick up. Skinny little thing with a black eye and a messy crop of hair. He was also the only one they’d needed to fit with a translator implant. No one else had been able to get near Quill without him flying into a fit trying to fend off the Ravagers.

Once again it fell to Tullk to resolve the situation. Apparently he looked just enough like a Terran that Quill had just frozen instead of trying to fight. So Tullk had drawn the kid close to his chest and held him still while the implant was fitted.

“Take me home … I want my momma.” Just how young was he? Probably very considering he was now sniffling. His own daughter had been long past the crying when Tullk last saw her … so at the very least Quill was a fair bit younger than she’d been.

“No can do, kiddo. You’re stuck here with us now, best get used to it. Tullk here’s gonna be your designated babysitter so don’t go causin’ him no trouble.” Tullk felt the kid tense up against him when Yondu roughly ruffled his hair before muttering in the Ravager’s ear. “This one’s staying. Skinny, can get into places we can’t. Good for thievin’.”

To Tullk it was a paper-thin excuse. He’d been tempted to tell the captain that if they weren’t delivering Quill they should just put him back. But he didn’t. The kid was clinging to his leathers in the same way his youngest used to when wrestling with his siblings got too rough. Felt about the same size in his arms too.

Tullk peeled himself free, automatically laying a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “‘Mon, lad. You can pile in with me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where he reckoned the kid probably wasn’t going to talk again. That was okay, it was late anyway, Tullk just continued to lead him towards the sleeping hall. “You sound like Groundskeeper Willy. I like him...”

Tullk blinked, what kind of name was Grun skipper? He just chuckled and patted Quill’s shoulder. “Whatever makes ya feel better, lad.”

Being a daddy, it turns out, ain’t something that fades away when the kids you sired are long gone. Those instincts just sleep below the surface, waiting until they’re needed again. With the others, Tullk hadn’t noticed the old familiar whisperings. _Protect. Guide. Teach._ Quill just happened to be staying. So the whispers grew into more of a constant buzz.

It wasn’t as though Tullk treated Quill like the boy was his son. Those days were long past. He was just a kid, like any of the others. One that would be around long enough to build fragile bonds.

Tullk would never be Quill’s da. Nor did he ever want to be. But he could help Yondu teach him. Guide both young bucks along the way, like he’d never got the chance to with his actual flesh and blood. There was something nice and warm in that thought. He caught Horuz in a scowl as they passed and just winked at the other man.

Nothing soft in it. If you’d never been a parent then Tullk had no way to explain it. You just had to watch an Orloni on her last legs snap and claw until the end to defend her nest. Then you’d get a glimpse.

“I wanna go home …”

“Sorry lad, not up tae me.” Tullk sat himself down. “You just get some sleep. And don’t ya worry. Tullk ain’t gonna let nothin’ get ya in the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading and hopefully I'll see you back in the next instalment, my lovelies!


	3. Ravager Wedding Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stakar gets ambushed a couple of days before his wedding. Everyone gets drunk. And Tullk sings.

Ravager weddings were a rare event, given the tendencies towards internally crushing anything that might make someone too soft. Not that anyone would dare call Stakar Ogord or, more specifically, his fiancée Aleta ‘soft’. Besides, any excuse to get blind-drunk was something no self-respecting Ravager would pass up.

So when the day drew near Tullk stole himself away to a secret meeting. Its purpose? Kidnapping Stakar for the traditional parading of the groom. Supposedly Mainframe had placed herself in charge of Aleta’s. No one else would be mad enough to try.

Stealth and secrecy would be the key to this plan’s success. Stakar Ogord was a proud admiral, and if he caught even the faintest whiff of the scheme in the air then it would be doomed to failure. The talks went on for hours and to keep Stakar off their scent regular jobs and shift patterns had to be maintained. Any updates made in someone’s absence could be reported through personal comm-channels.

Tullk’s job had been pretty simple: Source the strongest, liver-destroying drink he could during his upcoming solo mission in Skrull-space. Keeping said booze untouched until the appointed day would be the real challenge, but Tullk had his ways. Hailing from a planet of mercenaries had its perks, after all.

He guarded the precious hoard like a bear guarded her cubs. Unfortunately Tullk couldn’t hang around all the time, so he’d bribed a couple of rookies with the promise of having first pick the next time he brought booze on board.

When the day finally arrived, the ship was buzzing with excitement. Two days before the actual wedding date, not even Stakar would be suspicious of how antsy his crew was getting.

He strode through the pristine metal halls, straight-backed and dignified as he inspected the ship and its crew. Only the fact that he never paused in his patrol and the tension across broad shoulders betrayed the nerves prickling under Stakar’s calm facade.

Really it was all too easy to jump the admiral from behind, gag him and restrain his arms, to prevent unnecessary injury as they dragged Stakar to his M-Ship.

“When I get out of here you’re all dead!” Stakar promised. “Bunch of yellow-blooded cowards, you don’t even have the nerve to stage a mutiny to my face?!” He snarled as a pair of big ugly bruisers man-handled the Ravager admiral off ship to the planet’s surface.

Tullk hadn’t been the only one to burst out laughing, he could see the confusion thinning his captain’s lips at the good-natured guffaws and chortles. “Oh, this ain’t no mutiny, Ogord. You’ve only got a couple days left of freedom, and we intend to send you off with a grand farewell!” The booming, jovial voice of Charlie-27 laughed.

The large man strode out from the crowd, he grinned as he saw the colour drain from Stakar’s face. A nod to the bruisers saw the blind-fold removed

“By the stars, Charlie, … tell me you don’t mean …”  
  
“Ain’t a real Ravager weddin’ ‘less there’s Blackenin’, Captain. Don’t ye worry. By my reckonin’ Aleta’s en route tae hers as we speak.” Tullk said as Charlie clapped Stakar cheerfully between his shoulder-blades and held a bottle in front of his face. “Now drink up, lads! The fun’s about tae begin!”

Even Stakar couldn’t argue against the swell of cheers that rose in response to those words. He tipped his head back and allowed the throat-burning liquid to be poured past his lips. As soon as the bottle was finished, Charlie hoisted Stakar up and held him over a broad shoulder. “Untie me already!” The drink must have been strong because the admiral was already slurring his consonants together.

“Can’t do that, buddy.” Charlie taunted playfully as he strode towards a battered old land-wagon. “Don’t want to risk you trying to run off on us.” Stakar just groaned in defeat and went limp in his friend’s hold, looking decidedly less dignified than any aside from those closest to Stakar had probably ever seen before.

All around, Ravagers shed their leathers, baring abdomens and downing bottles of alcohol as Charlie and Martinex set Stakar upon the central wooden seat secured on the open back of the vehicle. They tied his legs to the chair and freeing his arms so they could relieve the admiral of his leathers.

One by one the Ravagers piled into the vehicle, carrying make-shift drums and batons. Another of Stakar’s close friends, Krugarr, carried the bottles of drink to be shared around by the crew before taking position in the driver’s seat.

Charlie stood and raised a bottle. “To Stakar and Aleta!” Once more the rowdy band cheered and in unison they drank deeply from their bottles. “May they never forget the joys of freedom after they give them up!” Stakar glared at Charlie and Tullk slung an arm around his neighbour, throwing his head back with laughter.

The wagon’s engine revved, signalling the start of the drumming. Batons clanged against metal drums and the sides of the wagon in an eclectic rhythm as Charlie walked the length of the wagon, pouring thick black treacle over each Ravager in turn, saving Stakar for last. Tullk let loose a wolf-whistle as the gunge slipped over his Captain’s head and torso. Despite all his protests, the groom-to-be held his back straight and grabbed a bottle from Martinex. He downed the contents as Charlie banged on the roof, giving Krugarr the go-ahead.

Representatives from across all hundred clans had gathered planet-side to cheer as they drove Stakar through the woods. They stomped in times with the drums and slammed fists against their chests.

It was a shame they couldn’t indulge in these occasions more often, Tullk mused as his voice joined the others in a rousing rendition of an old shanty.

 _Scurry scurry on and on_  
Bare ya fangs and tear ‘em up!  
We’s the Rats o’ th’ galaxy  
Scurry scurry on and on  
Bare ya fangs and tear ‘em up!  
We’s the Rats o’ th’ galaxy  
And flarkin’ proud we be! 

Eventually Tullk rose from the wooden slat, wobbling precariously in his drunken state. An arm on either side hooked around each of his legs to steady him as he raised a bottle in Stakar’s direction before belting out what little he could remember of a tune from home.

 

_There was an old farmer, lived o'er the hill_

_If he ain't moved on, he's living there still_   
  


_The devil came to him one day_  
Said, one of your kin, I'm gonna take away  
  


_Oh, please don't take my only son_

_There's work on the farm, that's gotta be done_

_-Fie fie diddle die_

_-Fie fie diddl-ie day_

_But you can have my nagging wife_

_I swear by god, she's the curse of my life_   
  


_So they marched on down to the gates of hell  
He said, kick on the fire, boys, we'll roast her well _

_Out came a little demon with a spit and chain_

_That she upped with her foot and she knocked out his brain_   
  


_So all those little demons went scrambling up the wall_

_Saying take her back, daddy, she'll murder us all_

_-Fie fie diddle die_

_-Fie fie diddl-ie day_   
  


_So the farmer woke up and he looked out the crack_

_And he saw that devil bringing her back_

_The old man jumped and he bit his tongue_  
Then he ran for the hills in a flat out run  
  


_He was heard to yell, as he ran o'er the hill_

_If the devil won't have her, 'be damned if I will_

_Singing_

_-Fie fie diddle die_

_-Fie fie diddl-ie day_

 

The assembled vagabonds howled with laughter, even Stakar let loose a hearty guffaw as Tullk bowed to the boos and laughter. “In honour o’ wir Captain ‘n’ his deadly bride!”

Krugarr brought the wagon to a stop not long after that, the old thing spluttering and jolting under the weight and extended use. Charlie hauled Stakar from his seat and brought him to a good strong tree. “Alright boys, you know what to do.” And they did. Tullk and the others brought out the sticky clear wrappings and circled the tree, trapping Stakar against the trunk.

All in turn they posed next to the groggy admiral as Martinex preserved the memories on his datapad. Tullk was the last to have his picture taken, and before they left Stakar to hang for a couple of hours he poured half the contents of another bottle down his Captain’s throat.

It really had been quite the sight. Stakar: bare-chested, covered in treacle and completely off his face secured against a craggy old tree. He slurred bleary-eyed at the retreating backs of his rowdy friends and crew, helpless until someone decided it was time to finally let him down again.

Even as Tullk hung over Martinex’s shoulder, another song on his lips, the pictures of their outing were being sent to Stakar’s bride-to-be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a wedding tradition we have back home called a blackening. They're messy and loud and I just thought it seemed very Ravager. The first lyrics are the chorus from a Ravager shanty I threw together a while back, which got a voice recording from the wonderful Obfonteri on tumblr. The second ones are from Heather Dale's version of Farmer's Curst Wife, it's a fun little tune.   
> A very silly one this time, Tullk wasn't too heavily involved but it's a fond memory of his and as such I felt it deserved to be here too. As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Any and all feedback and criticism is welcomed, and I'll see you in the next instalment, my lovelies!


	4. Know Me By My Heart, Know Me By My Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one story Tullk never tells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an angsty one, folks.  
> Potential trigger warnings: implied slaughter and child death. Nothing graphic. Will update the tags as soon as I post this chapter.

Stories had always been an integral part of down time on a Ravager ship. It didn’t matter if everyone knew it by heart or had even been present for the event. The crew who weren’t on shift would gather and listen, drinks in hand. Near enough everyone had stories to tell, some were better – gifted with gab and their unique brand of charisma.

There was one story Tullk never shared though.

Not outside of one drunken planet-side outing with Horuz, anyway. He’d never share it again either. Dreams were another matter entirely. Fire burned Tullk’s nostrils and screams battered against his ears every time he fell asleep.

_The village had been small, cushioned in snow beneath tall imposing mountains. Tullk and his comrades stumbled across it during the wild winds and heavy frozen rains of the Winter. If not for the unconditional kindness of the locals, they might have died out there in the week-long storm. Families willingly accepted the heavily armed strangers into their homes, offered beds by the fire and shared what little food they had._

“ _Ye ken we canna let ‘em live. No one can ken we was here.”_  
_“Aye … we’ll wait ‘till the storm passes.”_

Tullk felt nails pinch into the side of his neck and his eyes snapped wide. He was panting, snow and wood bleeding into the dingy metal of the Eclector. Before he could yell a heavily calloused hand clamped over his mouth, a second one squeezing at his shoulder. Warm breath ghosted over Tullk’s ear as his struggles calmed. “Sshh… you’ll wake the brat.”

Horuz never spoke of what he knew. Tullk knew he never would either. Wasn’t his story to tell. Instead he let Tullk slump next to him in the sleeping piles, ready to wake him should the dreams threaten anyone else’s slumber.

With a deep inhale through his nose Tullk gave a slow nod. Horuz took a moment to wait for Tullk’s muscles to relax before releasing him. He didn’t ask, and for that Tullk was grateful. Luckily everyone else was still sound asleep, including little Peter who was curled into his chest.

“One’a these days they’ll go away.”

Horuz just snorted and lay back down, letting Tullk’s head rest against the soft pillow of his stomach. “If they were going to they would’ve by now. Stop kidding yourself and get some rest.” No more had been said between them that night, Horuz slept with an arm hanging loosely down Tullk’s chest as he lay awake with his eyes shut.

 _Before bed that fateful night Tullk and his brothers raised glasses in thanks to their hosts._ _The orders were clear. No word of their presence on this world could travel any further than the village._

_So after everyone was asleep, he took his knife and went to the family’s room, one of his brothers falling in step by his side. The end was meant to be quick and easy – slice throats while they slept. Except someone woke his targets, and the screams of terror rippled over the village._

_Tullk froze, blood dripping from his knife as he heard the frantic sobbing of the children behind him. His mind went blank, body moving on its own._

_When he returned to himself, Tullk was outside the hut, watching as it went up in flames, smoke and burning flesh filling his nostrils. The sickening crack of bone echoed in his ears, though he couldn’t remember the act._

  
“Tullk? Tullk!” Small fists pounded against his chest, the frantic voice strained to make itself heard through gasping for breath. “Leggo … please. It hurts …!” Quill. The small body he was crushing against him as he curled in on himself was Quill.

Tullk loosened his arms to let the kid scramble away and gulp air back into his starved lungs. “Laddie? Ye alright?” his voice was thick through his tight throat. Peter nodded, hugging himself, keeping his distance. Tullk gently reached over and laid a hand in the mess of his hair. “Sorry. ‘S okay, willna happen again.” He murmured, hoping the quiet would soothe the lad and keep anyone else from waking to the commotion.

Peter’s eyes fell to the floor. “Is it ‘cause Horuz ain’t here? Y’know … to stop you dreaming?” Tullk sighed a little, Peter slept by him every night so far, of course he would’ve noticed.

“Aye. ‘Mon, lad. Settle back down ‘n’ sleep. Ain’t gonna happen again.” There was no sense in lying to the boy. He grinned, a reassuring expression marred by pain. Peter hesitated before shuffling back in against Tullk’s side and fisting a hand into the warm leather of his coat.

“What are they about?” The boy asked, small voice full of concern.

Tullk just shook his head. “Ain’t fer ye tae worry ‘bout, lad. Go tae sleep.” Peter frowned, nose crinkling as he prepared to protest. The old Ravager silenced him with a ruffle to his hair. “Ol’ Tullk’s jus’ fine.” He promised, closing his eyes. Luckily the lad took the hint that Tullk wasn’t willing to say anything more about it and settled down reluctantly against his lap.

_  
Tullk fell to his knees, hands grasping for purchase that couldn’t be found in the soft blood-stained snow. Flames engulfed the village, their roars drowning out the screams of anyone who might still be alive in there. Behind him his brothers hunted for the runaways._

_His stomach coiled sickeningly as he remembered a young tear-stained face. ‘Why? We looked after you, we saved you!’_

_**Because** , Tullk thought, **We’re monsters.**_

_Monsters who preyed on kindness and damned their own souls, all for a job. All for a handful of units a head._

  
Tullk never told a second soul the story of his greatest shame. He endured the dreams, doing nothing to banish them. There was no other way to make up for what they’d done that night. So he accepted the dreams as his punishment.

Just as he accepted Horuz’s warm hand on his shoulder, because he was too weak to bear the burden alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by a song called Cold Glencoe by Rise. I recommend giving it a listen if you can.  
> As always thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. Any and all feedback/criticism is welcomed with open arms. Hopefully I'll see you in the next instalment, my lovelies!


End file.
